


easy to be sleazy (when you've got a filthy mind)

by strzyga



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-23
Updated: 2010-03-23
Packaged: 2017-10-15 13:10:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/161108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strzyga/pseuds/strzyga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk loves running his mouth during sex. He talks dirty to turn Spock on, but half-way through it, he completely loses it and is reduced to babbling/begging/embarrassing professions of undying love. written for the kink meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	easy to be sleazy (when you've got a filthy mind)

It's about a million degrees in Spock's quarters. Jim's sweating already and they haven't even gotten to the good stuff.

He's lost his shirt somewhere along the way, seated across Spock's legs in nothing more than boxer briefs with his thighs spread wide around his hips. Spock seems a little lost, a little uncertain what to do. There are broad hands pressed like brands to his hips. "God, yeah," he mutters, breath catching, and mouths along Spock's jaw to his ear. "Fuck, you're so hot, I've wanted to do this for ages--"

"Jim," Spock says, sounding just vaguely breathless, fingers clenching.

Jim can feel bruises blossoming across his hips. "Yeah," he says, "yeah, god," rolls his hips _just so_. Spock makes this noise, this raw, aching noise, that sends a sheet of flame running down Jim's back. He laughs, faintly, licks along the arch of Spock's ear to suckle at the point. The body beneath him, so hot against his thighs, bucks sharply, another sound breaking loose that makes Jim shiver. "Fuck yeah, baby," he gasps, his own hips rolling desperately, "love the noises you make, get me so fucking hot."

"Captain," Spock says, and Jim's whole body shivers, "I am not certain I comprehend why you persist in referring to me as an infant--"

"Spock," Jim says, smiling against his skin, can't help but press open-mouthed kisses to the arch of his cheekbone. "Spock, it's a term of endearment, affectionate." He runs his hands along Spock's arms, loving the way the bands of solid muscle feel beneath his palms.

He pulls back far enough to meet Spock's eyes, dark and liquid and smoldering, and feels his heart clench, something flip over in his stomach. "God, you're gorgeous," he whispers, taking Spock's face in his hands, and he kisses him lightly, open-mouthed. He licks at the seam of Spock's lips, moans and presses closer when Spock opens before him.

They trade kisses for what feels like hours, Spock's mouth a furnace against his own, tongue raspy like a cat's. He takes Jim's mouth with long, broad sweeps that make him shudder all over, and Jim groans as his hips move against his will, louder when he finds just the right angle to get Spock's prick pressed against his ass. There is a new sense of confidence in the Vulcan's movements, now, as though he's absorbed it through Jim's mouth, Jim's skin. _Touch telepath,_ he reminds himself; it's not beyond the realm of possibility. The idea makes Jim hot to his very core.

It is Spock who pulls away, this time, then darts forward to trace boiling kisses down the line of Jim's throat. Jim moans wildly and throws his head back. "Yeah, baby," he says, chest heaving, "yeah, you're good at that." Spock nips sharply at his Adam's apple, makes him whimper and grind. " _Fuck_ , I want to suck you, take your cock in my mouth and just go down on you for hours. You'd love that, wouldn't you? Me on my knees, sucking you?"

Spock jerks him closer, at that, does a little grinding himself, the tip of his dick rubbing just right against Jim's hole. He can feel himself whine high in his throat, feels it break into tight gasps when Spock sucks a bruise into his collarbone.

"Mmmm," Jim says, low in his chest, eyelids fluttering. "Yeah, you would be the possessive type, wouldn't you, baby?" He moans when Spock moves back up his throat and takes his earlobe into his mouth, a quick flash of teeth. "Oh, yeah, I love it too, sweetheart, love your mouth, it'd feel so good around my dick--"

There is a sharp bite, an honest to god _bite_ , to the spot just behind his ear that always turns his bones to butter. He cries out, whole body jerking, then fumbles at the clasps of Spock's uniform. "Fuck, you need to take this off," he says, a little desperate, "I want you to fuck me into the mattress and you need to be naked." He gets all the fastenings undone, sweeps the shirt off Spock's shoulders. All that's left is the black undershirt, fitted and pulled deliciously tight across planes of muscle and bone.

He has to pause for a moment to drink it all in, feeling greedy and hungry. Then he slides his hands around Spock's waist, beneath the shirt, and moans loudly at the feel of it, searing against his fingertips, smooth and hard with muscle. He is stricken suddenly by imagining the way the muscles would shift beneath the skin as Spock fucks him, and he groans, loud and long, and pushes himself roughly against Spock's chest, loving the way the fabric scratches at his nipples.

"Fuck," he gasps, " _oh_ , fuck, yeah," and he rubs himself shamelessly against Spock's still-clothed chest, nipples pulling achingly hard with each semi-painful brush against them. He's always been a little bit of a masochist.

Spock pulls abruptly backwards, a strange gleam in his eye, and strips out of his shirt. Jim's mouth may not exactly water, but it's a close thing. Spock's chest is a canvas of porcelain skin, flushed a delicate green like the skin of a pear across his shoulders, and mossy nipples poke out from a dense thatch of black curls that arrow down into a thin treasure trail at his stomach.

Jim's eyes flare, want a heavy thing in his belly, and he immediately tangles his fingers in the thick curls. "Oh, yeah, so fucking hot," and then Spock darts forward and takes one of Jim's pebbled nipples into his mouth and he jerks and whimpers, biting his lip. "Fuck, so good, Spock, baby, I want--" The words dissolve into a long, drawn-out moan when Spock sinks his teeth into the flesh in his mouth. Jim's mind goes a little hazy, fingers tugging at the dark curls. He cries out, cock leaking precome onto his thigh, "Oh, fuck me, want your cock, want it in me--"

He hears a low growl, and then Spock's hands on his hips jerk him up and forward, at a better angle to torture his nipples, plucks and chews at them until Jim is keening high-pitched and scrambling at his shoulders, his neck, his ears.

Broken noises fall from his lips, and his hands finally settle at the back of Spock's head, black hair like silk sliding between his fingers. He writhes shamelessly in Spock's lap, sucking noises wet and obscene in his ears, driving him wild. He whimpers, god, having his nipples played with gets him off like nothing else. "Spock," he says, hears his voice crack. "Spock, come on, oh, baby, just like that, you're so _good_ ," and then he groans, wild and frantic.

He yelps as Spock stands up without warning, taking Jim with him, hands sliding around to cup his ass. He winds his arms around the broad shoulders, presses tightly with his thighs, and is carried over to the bed and dropped without fanfare to the mattress. "Holy shit," he says, shivering, eyes wide, "that was so fucking hot--"

There is something faintly resembling a smirk on Spock's lips as he says, "I recommend you remove the rest of your clothing, Jim," and does so himself.

"Oh hell yeah," Jim says, and kicks his boxer briefs off without hesitation, eyes fixed on the sight before him.

Spock is quick and efficient in removing his boots, pants and underwear, and his cock, when it springs forward, is flushed a lush green, slick and hard. Little pearls of precome glisten at its tip, and Jim moans greedily, lets his thighs fall apart, eyes going half-lidded. "Yeah," he says, voice dropping a register; he thinks he sees Spock shiver faintly, grins wide and toothy. He's still got it. "Yeah, look at you, baby, hard and wet just for me. Christ, you're so fucking hot, come here."

The mattress dips as Spock crawls onto the bed, settles between Jim's legs. He spreads his hands across Jim's thighs, fingers digging into the muscle. Jim makes a happy little noise in his chest, sprawls out loose and sweating on the bed, lets his thighs fall further apart and _stretches_ , moaning deliberately, obscenely; he knows how he looks, like this, cock laying curled along his hip, arms stretched above his head to draw attention to the muscles of his belly and chest, to his nipples. Spock's breath has grown a little ragged, fingers tracing random patterns into his skin. He's a touch telepath, Jim reminds himself; he focuses on how much he's loving being here, how much he wants this, and watches as Spock's eyes flash with desire.

Then Spock leans forward, lips at his nipple, and Jim has enough time to think _oh fuck--_ before all that intense Vulcan deliberation is focused on his chest and he bucks, crying out. Yeah, he should have figured Spock would be sharp enough to figure out the way to keep him pliant. "Oh," he hears himself saying, as though from a great distance, "oh god, yeah, fuck, harder, _please_ \-- Want you so much, always, been thinking about this forever, fuckfuckfuck you have to fuck me I need you to fuck me--"

Suddenly there are slick fingers playing at the skin around his hole, and he whines, spine curling, as need threads hot and overwhelming through his belly.

They slip inside all at once, almost painfully hot. He jerks with a shout when they immediately find his prostate, twisting roughly against it so that he can only sob and buck helplessly. He can hear himself babbling, pleading, wants it so much it aches in his chest. Somehow a third finger slides in without Jim really noticing, and then he is being enthusiastically, thoroughly fingered, desperate cries and low moaned fragments of words pouring unbidden from his throat.

The room tilt-a-whirls, and it takes Jim's sex-addled brain a moment to realize Spock has flipped him onto his stomach. He shudders, heat flaring in his chest, and tangles his fingers in the bed sheets. "Mmm, _fuck_ ," he moans, "yeah, baby, god you're so hot, fuck me, come on, please fuck me--"

Hands like branding irons settle on his hips, pull him up onto his knees, rearrange him for a moment. Then the superheated body settles atop of his, muscled thighs pressing his wider, chest heaving against his back. He groans, shoving his hips backwards, against the solid erection digging into the top of his thigh.

Without warning Jim is being split open, Spock's white-hot prick slipping in and spreading him wide. He can feel his eyes widen, his jaw drop as he moans helplessly, spreads his legs as far as he can and presses backwards. All the breath leaves him on a grunt with the first thrust, hardly a second later, and then Spock shifts incrementally to the side, braces his knees, and _fucks_ him.

"Oh, oh god," Jim says, only half aware of the words, totally focused on the feel of Spock's dick inside him, "oh _fuck_ , baby, yeah, oh please, Spock, come on, fuck me, harder, _ngh_ , yeah, shit, oh just like that--"

Spock leans forward, takes the skin at the back of Jim's neck between his teeth and worries at it, and as Jim jerks and shouts, says into his ear, "You are most vocal."

Jim gasps for breath as the Vulcan lands a particularly vicious thrust directly to his prostate, hears a whine twist in his throat. "Yeah," he manages, "yeah, sorry, can't help it _oh fuck_ right there oooh fuck me fuck me fuck me--"

"Captain," Spock says, voice tight, "I believe I am already doing so."

He can't help it, he laughs, mangled around a moan.

Then Spock's hands on his hips pull him tighter against him, and he settles into a rhythm that brings a wash of warmth to Jim's skin. He fucks deep and hard, wringing ragged cries and desperate moans from Jim's throat. It goes on for what feels like forever but is really not long enough, sweat slicking their skin, Spock's breathing rough and heavy in his ears.

The pleasure is coiling tight in his gut, tighter with each thrust. His moans reach a fevered pitch, fingers white-knuckled in the sheets. Spock twists his hips, prick jumping, and Jim cries out, tasting damp cotton.

Orgasm hits him like a Klingon to the face, a sudden release of the tension in his stomach that knocks the breath from his chest in a weak moan, and his whole body jerks and spasms, ropes of come painting the sheets beneath his hips. He collapses bonelessly to the bed, exhausted and rung out.

Spock thrusts three, four, five more times, uneven and rough, and then makes a low noise in his chest that makes Jim shiver yet again. His fingers tighten around Jim's hips, pressing bruises almost to the bone; Jim knows himself, knows he will press his fingers to the bruises for days, that the pain and the memory will make want flare hot in his stomach, make his breath catch. He moans as he feels Spock come within him, a hot liquid rush that leaves him utterly breathless.

There is a long moment in which the only sound is that of their breathing, and then Spock shifts onto his knees, softening prick slipping out. It's a vaguely uncomfortable feeling, and Jim hisses softly, missing the fullness already.

"Jesus fuck," he says, a moment later, when he's caught his breath.

"Indeed," says Spock.

Jim finds himself laughing, quietly.

**Author's Note:**

> title stolen from Marina and the Diamonds' "Girls".


End file.
